


Faculty Ficlets

by AirgiodSLV



Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-07
Updated: 2007-05-03
Packaged: 2019-07-10 12:57:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15949820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV





	1. Showdown

"You think it will make it all go away," Zeke says slowly, catching a flash of Casey's face as he inhales, cigarette filter flaring against the desert night outside the car windows. "But it won't."

Casey is wearing a t-shirt, too thin for the cold, and his bare arms are track-marked, tatooed with attempts to forget. "Nothing else works," Casey says in response, and his eyes go glassy, the way they did half-an-hour ago when Zeke took him in the backseat, final goodbye, losing himself in Casey until he forgot what he was running from.

"Let's do it," Casey says suddenly, and gets out of the car before Zeke can come up with something to say in return.

Casey throws the cigarette into the desert sand and grinds it out beneath his heel, looking out over the invisible horizon. "This is a good place," he says distantly, and Zeke doesn't have any words, doesn't have the answer Casey is looking for and never did.

"Me first," Casey says, and turns to meet Zeke's eyes, no hesitation, not a flicker of doubt. And Zeke knows that he'll do it, because Casey will make him; Casey will make sure that Zeke doesn't falter.

It's what comes after that Zeke isn't sure he can handle, because Casey won't be there to see it through. And Casey is the catalyst, always has been. Zeke knows better than to think he's the special one.

"Aliens," Casey muses softly, and Zeke almost stops this, almost says enough and throws Casey into the car, tuns back and heads for Herrington. 

But he doesn't.

"Let's do it," Casey repeats, and sets his chest squarely facing Zeke, chin up, barely ten paces away. "Now."

Zeke raises the gun, and closes his eyes against the sound.


	2. Apocalypse

They were taking too long to get on the road. Even knowing everyone else in the town was dead, Zeke felt the itch to head out in his palms like a ticking clock on a countdown. Maybe because of that.

Casey was packing a duffelbag with whatever clothes and supplies he had here at the school. His parents' station wagon sat a few parking spaces over, pillaged for whatever it could bring them. Casey's parents weren't in it, still somewhere in the brightly-lit stadium where they'd fallen. Thank god for small miracles.

"Is there anything else in the wagon?" Zeke asked.

Casey opened the passenger-side door and took something out from under the seat, cradling it from Zeke's view. He hid it inside his duffelbag and Zeke blocked him when he tried to get into the car. "What is it?"

Casey's eyes flashed at him, stubborn and sullen and exhausted. "Does it matter?"

Zeke ground his teeth. It wasn't that he didn't have any sympathy, he just didn't have enough. "If it's going in my car, then yes it fucking matters. Casey, what's in the bag?"

Silence. Then, "A gun."

Zeke needed a cigarette. He felt it more than the itch telling him to get the fuck out of here, and that was a lot. "Where'd you get it?"

Casey's eyes were muted blue, and his shoulders slumped, like he wasn't used to putting up a fight but was forcing himself to do it. "It's my dad's. I know what's out there, Zeke, I'm not traveling without it."

"Yeah, yeah." Zeke rolled out his shoulders, looking away. Not at the stadium, full of people and ominously silent. "Put it in the glove compartment."

Casey stood still for a moment, chin jutting out and swaying slightly (post-adrenaline crash was a bitch) before moving around Zeke, who was still blocking his way, and jerking open the car door. Zeke heard the snick-clunk of the glove box opening, and then a long, weighted silence.

Finally Casey said, "You..."

"Yeah. I know what's out there too."


End file.
